


Dance, Dance.

by KelseyKarp



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: F/M, Frottage, Grinding, Smut, Yooooo I felt like Joe was really underappreciated on this site, inspired by the dance dance video, so here's a reader insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 09:40:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3244928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelseyKarp/pseuds/KelseyKarp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe Trohman asks you to a dance despite not believing you'd show. You put his money where his mouth is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance, Dance.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This was inspired by binging every Fall Out Boy video in one sitting. And I, of course, wanted to give some love to one of the most talented guitarists I know, Joe Trohman. Yeah, so I've never written something this long, let alone smut. So, please forgive me. This is a stepping stone for me to get better. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

It wasn't what you had thought, then again things like this never were.  
It was late January, the days short but the illusion of the second semester of junior year dragging on was an illusion you couldn't fight.  
You had never considered yourself the most enthusiastic student. You had struggled with some subjects and in others, you'll admit you slacked off. But, your teachers enjoyed not having to deal with another teenager rebelling against them and their standardized education. So, you were never anything special, you never really minded anyway. 

Late on a Thursday afternoon, you retreated to your locker, placing your notebooks in the bottom and grabbing your coat for the walk home. When you shut your locker, a familiar smell emanated from the locker next to you. Joseph Trohman, a boy who lounged behind you in your English literature class and occasionally "borrowed" your notes, leaned against your neighboring lockers. The smell of cigarettes and faux-lavender from a car freshener assaulted you.  
"What's up, hot stuff?" He asked, his arms crossed in that confident way that made him seem much bigger than he looked.  
"Wouldn't you like to know." You responded, lifting your book bag over shoulder. Before you could even readjust your book straps, Joe had grabbed the bag from you, hoisting it onto his back.  
Your brows raised. "What are you doing?"  
Joe smiled innocently, or as innocently as he could look behind his mop of curls. He shrugged, changing the subject.  
"So, what do you think. You, me," he pointed between the two of you. "Dance? This weekend?" He paused on the word "dance" to shake his hips and grab at your hands in a pseudo-waltz.  
You shook your head, leading Joe out to the courtyards where the buses were lined up.  
As much as you enjoyed Joe's company, you don't think he wanted to just have a friendly excursion at a school-sanctioned function. In fact, you were sure he wanted anything but. You heard stories about guys like Joe, the guys who never had a good excuse for the lipstick on their collar or the visiting hickies from a different girl every other week. He was nice, you thought. But sadly, you were more cautious of the stories you heard around the school's watering hole. 

"Sorry Joe, I don't dance." You concluded. The January air was brisk, carrying the scent of wood-stoves and rain. Joe caught up to your pace. "You don't need to know how to dance!" He exclaimed, handing your bag as you eyed your bus at the end of the line-up. "Half of the junior class doesn't even know how to dance and they're going." He added, trying to convince you.  
You turned to him, pulling your book bag over your shoulder.  
Joe searched for another reason out of the thin air. "I-ah-I'll teach you how to dance." He seemed more than usually sincere, his cynicism quickly dispersing. You chuckled.  
"I'll think about it," you yelled to him over your shoulder as you stepped onto your bus, leaving Joe to watch you drive away.

On Friday morning, you took your usual seat in English literature, with Joe behind you. He smiled as you sat down and opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by your teacher starting your lesson for the day. You got to work, happy to have anything to focus on besides Joe's pining attempts to have you go to some stupid dance.  
You were taking notes on the symbolism of Shakespeare's Hamlet, analyzing various concepts in your notes that your teacher didn't even behind to bring up yet. With only five minute left in the class, Joe flicked the back of your ear, something that you were used to. You turned around, shooting him an exaggerated glare. As you turned, he took the opportunity to throw a folded note into your lap.  
In his terrible, blocky penmanship he made out a simple note.  
"Dance? Please??"  
And beneath it were two boxes, one labeled "yes," the other, "no."  
As the class period came to an end, you crumbled up the note and threw it into your bag.  
"Well?" Joe asked, trying to catch you in the mad dash of people headed toward the door.  
You smirked at him.  
"Sixth grade called, they want your love note back." You turned, leaving his mouth agape as he tried to think of some witty response. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a blush creeping on his cheeks. 

You didn't return to your locker that afternoon. It wasn't that you were avoiding Joe, per say. You had just didn't want him to have to think up other reasons to convince you to go to this dance. Okay, so, yes. You were avoiding him. He was flattering, really he was. Joe had never taken advantage of your kindness as a friend and in fact, he didn't seem like he planned to. But, you knew what guys like him could be like. You knew who his friends were. His friends were the kind of guys you would see writings of on the bathroom walls. Names carved into the porcelain with profanities or cautionary tales scribbled along the door. None of which were specifically about Joe, but you could never be quite sure with his type. 

That afternoon, you thought about what Joe had said, the way his eyes had lit up when you told him that you'd think about it, his blushing at the idea of a "love note" passed between the two of you. It was almost too obvious for you to ignore. He liked you, and well, you weren't entirely opposed to the idea of liking him. 

It was decided, you'd go to the dance, stay for maybe half an hour, tops; then go home before risking embarrassment. There, not as tough as a decision as you had originally thought. So, you raided your closet, finding a dress you had worn to an old friend's Bat Mitzvah party. It was conservative, a navy dress with capped sleeves, a sweetheart neckline and a cut below the knee. That was fashionable, right? You slipped on the dress, having trouble getting the zipper zipped all the way up. After writhing awkwardly, you tugged the zipper closed and closed the hole and eye latch at the neckline. You were stopped by your mother before you left, she merely wished you well, knowing that you could be independent if only for one night.  
The walk to the gymnasium was not an incredibly long one, you needed to clear your mind anyway. How long had Joe liked you anyway? Was this only a new development or had you been oblivious to his pursuits before?  
What would his friends say if you were dancing with him? The idea of ridicule almost stopped you dead in your tracks.  
"No, no." You said to yourself in reassurance. Joe was your friend, besides, you promised you'd only stay for a little bit. 

The gym was at the far end of the school's courtyard, facing the football field. You were never one for sports, but the school's dedication to athletics was admirable. The double doors were propped open, the sound of music was loud even from where you were standing. Scooting into the gymnasium, you found yourself stuck in the sea of sweaty students. You could feel the bass over the speakers rattle your chest.  
Kids you knew were twisting and convulsing on the gym floor, grinding and gyrating. You weren't really surprised.  
In the back corner of the room near the old volleyball net stands, you saw him. Joe was stood in the middle of his friends, laughing. His head lolled back, exposing his Adam's apple. You weaved your way through the crowd to him. Of course, you weren't surprised that the one making him laugh was his best friend, Pete. Pete was a kind of guy you admired for the same reasons you admired Joe, he always seemed like the guy to go to when you need to smile. Joe's chortling stalled.  
"I-Uh, thought you said you weren't coming?" He asked, pulling away from the group. His voice, though loud, was barely heard over the music.  
"I told you I'd think about it." You responded, true to your word, you did. Joe smiled, gesturing for you to join his group of friends that had slowly conjoined.  
Pete was in the middle of telling a story.  
"So, she leaves the car and it's probably around negative ten degrees out, at least." He smiles listlessly as he speaks.  
"And she walked home! Like, she walked for at least an hour. I tried to text her, but she left her phone in my backseat." Pete laughed at his story, one hand resting on his chest as it heaved out a breath. Patrick, another one of Joe's friends, shook his head in mock-disapproval.  
"I think you have given a new meaning to the phrase 'love 'em and leave 'em.'" Patrick added, his words soaking with dry sarcasm. Pete ignored his comment and began another story about the time his step-brother had came home from college to find his parents had thrown out most of his stuff. It was entertaining seeing someone so intense about telling such a topical story in an entrancing way like his. In the middle of Pete explaining the difference between board houses and broad houses in college, you felt Joe's hand slip around your waist, his fingers resting on your hip. The mold of his arm around the small of you back was in a word: natural. You had wondered why Joe hadn't put his arm around you earlier. In response, you gravitated into his side.  
After a few more stories of Pete's, you caught Joe watching you laugh.  
Over the music, he leaned in to ask, "Do you wanna dance?" Feeling at ease, you smiled and nodded, finding it useless to try to yell over the bass line flooding the room.  
The song was fast, some form of rock with lyrics too quick for you to understand, but familiar enough that you could tell Joe was mouthing them.  
His hands held yours, keeping a distance between the two of you. His fingers intertwined yours as he started shimmying his shoulders to the beat. You smiled at his awkward attempt to dance and joined him, swirling you hips in rhythm. Your eyes followed the ground as you awkwardly swayed, letting the crowds blur around you. Song after song, you guys continued like this. The crowd around you became more dense, pushing you closer into Joe, not that you minded.  
You were now chest to chest with him, one hand on his shoulder, the other interlaced with his. His arm returned to its place around your waist. From here, you could hear him singing the words over the speaker. His voice was clear, sweet and low. He whispered each lyric as if he only ever wanted you to hear them. Halfway through the next song, he lifted your hand up, spinning you out, then back in. 

When you spun back into him, you were much closer than before. His hands now both hung low on your back as you crossed your arms behind his head. There was no longer the buzz of students around you. There was only you and him. And as cliché as it seemed, you relished in the idea of being alone with him. He looked at you, studying your eyes before clearing his throat.  
"Listen, (y/n), I know that I'm not really the coolest guy you know, but I was wondering if maybe-"  
"Hey Josephine!" Pete slapped a hand on Joe's back, he shot daggers at Pete. You pulled away, much to Joe's dismay.  
"You wanna ditch this place and go egg some houses like freshmen?" Pete asked excitedly. Joe let out a quick breath before looking to you, then back to Pete, "Nah, I think I'm gonna stay here."  
Pete threw his hands up in mock-disbelief. "C'mon! You can bring your girlie-friend with you." Pete added, as if to sweeten the deal.  
Joe's eyes widened. "I, uh, that's not! We aren't-No, Pete. No." He stuttered. Pete merely shrugged before weaving through the crowds and out the door, joining Andy and Patrick.

You smiled up at Joe, not being able to ignore the blush mutually creeping in on both of your faces. As if on cue, you both simultaneously tried to speak.  
"I'm sorry about Pete, he's-"  
"You know, I wouldn't mind being-"

Which resulted in both of you apologizing simultaneously.  
"You know, I wouldn't mind being you 'girlie-friend.'" You impersonated Pete as you spoke. Joe immediately began to beam. "Wait! Seriously?" He looked like a kid who was allowed to pick out a candy bar in the check out at a convince store. You nodded.  
Joe lifted his hand to scratch at the back of his neck, an obvious tell of how awkward he felt. 

"Can I kiss you?" He asked, his voice dull beneath the music.  
Without responding, you simply pulled him forward by the collar of his button-up and kissed him. His hands ghosted around your shoulders as if he didn't know how to touch you, or if he did, whether or not he would break you. He kissed back tenderly, allowing room for breath before kissing you again. This time he was more forceful, holding onto your hips and pulling you into him. Kissing him was like thieving something from someone else's vault when you knew it was rightfully yours. Your hands drifted to his hair, tugging on the unkempt curls. He let out a low moan, you couldn't so much hear it, as you could feel his moan vibrate in his chest. 

Breaking your embrace, Joe was on the verge of panting. "God, you're beautiful." You whispered, letting your forehead rest against his.  
"Do you wanna get out of here?" He asked, sincerity in his voice. You hesitated for a moment, relishing in those words and wanting them to echo throughout you. "Definitely." Joe grabbed your hand before leading toward the double doors. He lead you around the corner of the courtyard to the parking lot, stealing kisses like breadcrumbs along the way. 

His car was nothing special, an old beater that he payed for himself. He told you while he drove that maybe he could start driving you to school if you'd let him. You were flattered by the gesture, pecking his cheek as you approached his house. The lights weren't on, not that you were surprised. It was nearly midnight. When he turned off the ignition, you reached for the door handle, only to be interrupted.  
"Wait," Joe said, quickly climbing out of his side of the car and over to yours. He carefully opened your car door and helped you climb out. You mocked, "Such a gentleman." His fingers found their usual place in the space between yours as he pulled you past the front door. 

Despite the darkness, you could still make out the features of Joe's house. Framed photos and oil paintings hung on every wall, the furniture was lumpy and worn but still looked comfortable. You didn't know what you were expecting, but you were happy to know that you could be comfortable in his home. He gestured to you, placing a finger over his lips. You mirrored the gesture. He lead you down the main hall to a doorway that lead down a flight of stairs to the basement. Pulling a chain, you could see bed with a box spring and an entertainment center. Once you were at the bottom of the steps, Joe shut the door behind you.  
"Mi casa, es su casa." He tried to say, only slightly butchering the pronunciation. You laughed, flopping down on the edge of his bed.  
"So, now what?" You asked. He kicked off his shoes into the corner.  
"Well, what do you want to do?" He asked, sitting next to you.  
"I don't know, what do you want to do?" You mimicked. Joe giggled, turning his head away from you. You both sat in the silence comfortably for a few moments, your head still reeling.

"I never got to tell you how beautiful you look tonight. Really, I think you look stunning." He added, a sense of seriousness in his tone. You thumbs began to twiddle.  
"Yeah, and you don't look too bad yourself." Joe rolled his eyes at your comment before poking your stomach jokingly, causing you to laugh.  
"Oh, is someone ticklish?" He asked, a wolfish grin peeling across his face. Your eyes widened in panic as Joe's fingers explored your sides. Your throat erupted in staccato bursts of laughter. You tried pulling away from him, only to fall on to your back. He changed his leverage to keep tickling you, neither of you realizing that he was now practically on top of you. It wasn't until you were out of breath, did you realize how you must've looked at this very moment. Out of breath, you pulled him forward, letting your lips connect with his again. Finding a slow rhythm, you nibbled on his bottom lip, resulting in him gasping between kisses.  
His hands began pawing at your bra as his kisses became quicker. You readjusted to become more comfortable underneath him, which meant that Joe was now practically pinning your legs down. Not that you minded in the slightest.  
"Joe." You spoke between pecking him. "Dress." You instructed. Carefully, he undid the hook and eye fastener behind your neck. Your dress was now positively wrinkled and pulled down to your waist, exposing a grey bra. 

As he fidgeted with your dress, you found his lack of contact unbearable. You grabbed his hands, guiding them back to your hips. His fingers were cool against your hot skin. Joe gripped tight enough at your hips to leave bruises from his fingertips. Your lips migrated to his jawline, feeling every last detail of his stubble. Joe bit his lip, suppressing a moan. 

"Fuck." His voice was low, guttural and harbored more hunger than anything you had ever heard before. His right hand traced the outline of your bra strap before he placed tiny kisses on your collarbone. Your breath hitched in your throat as you looked up at the ceiling. Joe heard you and looked up. "You okay?" He asked, wondering if he was going too fast. His eyes spoke multitudes of concern. You simply smiled down at him.

"I'm okay," your words were breathless and full of wanton. He watched you for a moment more just to make sure before continuing his trail of kisses down the center of your chest. His thumb slipped inside your cup, a calloused finger ghosting its touch over your nipple. You let out a breathy moan.  
"Joe-" you listlessly stated, your fingers ensnaring themselves in his curls. His lips descended to your naval while his fingers still gave your hardening nipples the attention you desired. You were where you didn't expect to be tonight, a hot, writing mess in Joe's bed. 

In one swift move, you pulled your dress past your knees and let it fall to the floor, exposing a striped pair of boy shorts. "Holy fuck," Joe concluded, growing flustered at the sight. His fingers laced around the waistband of your boy shorts, but he hesitated, pulling away from you. "Are you sure about this? I mean, if you aren't that's totally okay, we can just watch a movie or-" you cut him off with a chaste kiss and responded, "take off your clothes." He obediently began sliding off his jeans as you got to work on his button-up. Damn your shaking fingers. Halfway down the row, Joe's hands joined yours. In stark contrast, his movements were calculated and steady. As he returned to his place on top of you, you knew without a doubt, how hard he was underneath his boxer-briefs. Joe met your lips again, reminding you of the tenderness you had felt at the gymnasium.

Your hips bucked, grinding against him. His eyes were closed in a blind euphoria. "Holy shit," he cussed under his breath before reaching underneath you to unclip your bra. You quickly slip it off without breaking connection with his lips. His right index finger and thumb gently circled your nipple once more before tugging it. Your breath came out more like a whine and a needy one at that. Savoring the sounds you made beneath him, Joe tugged at your tender nipple once more. 

"Jo-oe." You moaned under your breath. He smirked against your lips. Grinding against him once more, you had built up a momentum that would soon drive you over the edge. You were close. Joe rocked his boxer-brief clad erection against your clit, sending you into spirals. Your legs found themselves wrapping around Joe's. He slowly grind into you once more, his hips moving in little circles. He was going to drive you insane. Without speaking a word, you tensed around him, rubbing yourself against his erection once more. You kept the friction between as your head lolled back in post orgasmic bliss. He slowed, letting your legs trap him between you before orgasming, his head nestled in the crook of your neck.

"Holy shit." He said, looking up to find your eyes. You could only look down at him and start to laugh. There wasn't anything particularly funny about the situation but he began to laugh too, both of you giggling, boneless messes.

He pulled himself off of you, laying to your side on the bed. Simultaneously you tried to catch your breath while still laughing with him. After a minute or two to cool down, Joe turned to you.  
"You wanna stay the night? We could watch a movie or-"  
With that, you cut him off with a gentle kiss on the cheek.  
"Of course I would." You replied.


End file.
